The Picture of the Tragic Hero
by Andrew Aelfwine
Summary: Captain Katsuragi Misato, soldier-slob, finds herself living with Ikari Shinji, warrior-scholar. Alternate universe version of the manga, volume two.
1. Default Chapter

The Picture of the Tragic Hero  
A Neon Genesis Evangelion Alternate Universe Fanfiction  
By Andrew Carey  
  
Characters and situations of Neon Genesis Evangelion and Ranma  
1/2 belong to their respective creators and publishers. I am   
merely borrowing them for this work of non-profit fanfiction.  
  
Thanks very kindly to Suika Roberts for reading and advice.  
********************  
  
Katsuragi Misato watched from a window as her housemate  
walked down the street. At this range he was a tiny figure,  
recognisable only by his erect stance, firm stride, and solid black  
clothing. There were few people on the sidewalk, but they gave  
him room; in a city more heavily populated than Tokyo-3 he would  
have been clearly marked out by the bubble of space around him.   
This was a man whose every action proclaimed him a warrior.  
  
_A boy,_ she reminded herself. _A fourteen-year-old boy,  
whose father abandoned him to be raised by some strange little  
clutch of martial arts freaks._ She had seen a solitary tear drip from  
his eye yesterday, looking out over the city they defended. _A tear.   
Boys cry...  
  
_And so do men. Strong, vital, desperately hurt men, who  
need love to make them whole... Stop it, Misato. This isn't an  
anime character, this is a real person. A real person who is under  
your command and guardianship. A real person who is half your  
age. Not your all favourite pilots from Gundam Wing rolled into  
one magnificent brooding whole. Not a fiction you can safely have  
a crush on, and not a man you can court._  
  
She reached for her binoculars. _Military reasons. I'm  
supposed to be observing him. No, I just want to watch his  
shoulders and rear and that marvelous braid of hair... Stop it,  
Misato._ She was grateful when he turned out of sight.  
  
She took out her journal and began to write.  
  
  
Sunny. Then again, it's always sunny this time of year.   
Subject's just left for his first day of school. Bet some hearts will  
be fluttering. Lucky kids.   
  
In my opinion, he is cute. Make that beautiful. I wish he  
weren't so dour, though. I bet he has a gorgeous smile. I keep  
thinking about ways to make him smile. Telling jokes. Teaching  
Pen-pen tricks. Showing up naked in the living room while he's  
reading one of those ancient Chinese books and tickling him.  
  
Yeah, right. I'm terrible with jokes, and I can't even get  
Pen-pen to sit or heel. I'm sure I could never wear a stitch of  
clothing and he'd treat me exactly the same. "More tea, Captain?"   
"As your junior, I would be happy to cook tonight, Captain." And  
as to tickling, he probably wouldn't even feel my fingers.  
  
  
She looked down at the page and ripped it out of the  
notebook.  
  
*****  
  
Horaki Hikari scanned the memo another time. _A new  
student? That doesn't make sense. People don't move to Tokyo-3  
anymore._ She sighed inwardly, laying the note back on her desk.   
It was addressed to Sensei, as always, but he hadn't even read it  
before handing it to her. _Poor old man._ He hardly ever talked  
about anything save Second Impact, as if that one event months  
before her birth was the only thing in all the world that still  
mattered.  
  
There was someone in the door. A man, lean and hard,  
dressed in black, inhumanly graceful. She rose to meet him.  
  
"Excuse me, sir, do you have business here?" Hikari  
couldn't imagine why someone hadn't stopped the stranger earlier.   
_Perhaps he's a new teacher? But he looks like a soldier..._  
  
"Yes. My name is Ikari Shinji, and I believe this to be my  
new class?"  
  
_This is our classmate? But surely...he can't be our age..._   
"Ah, well, yes. Ah, Ikari-s...kun, are you aware..." She met his  
eyes, and forgot about asking him why he wasn't wearing a  
uniform. They were glossy, expressionless, dark brown. Warrior  
eyes, half watching her, half staring through her to the horizon. Yet  
there was depth, and a hint of hidden warmth... She shook herself  
slightly. "...that new students are expected to introduce themselves  
to the class?"  
  
"Naturally."  
  
"I... I'm Horaki Hikari."  
  
"Enchante, Horaki-san." He bowed, and walked to the  
blackboard, chalked his name in swift calligraphic strokes. Hikari  
forgot about returning to her seat, being far too absorbed by the  
enticing movement of a long brown queue and the black-clad rear  
end it reached. She noticed that nine-tenths of the female and at  
least a tenth of the male eyes in the room were watching the same  
thing.  
  
*****  
Misato flipped through Shinji's dossier again. Born 12  
September 2001. Mother deceased in research accident, December  
2004. Fostered in Kyoto with maternal third cousin once removed  
Kunou Kodachi and her domestic partner Li Shan Pu, February  
2005.   
  
_Nothing I haven't seen before. Just names and numbers.   
Shinji, what makes you you?_ She'd never seen any indication that  
his guardians were cruel, or even indifferent. They'd telephoned  
twice, and spoken for an hour each time. She'd heard him talking  
through the thin walls, and he'd sounded positively happy, as much  
as she could tell, given that he was speaking Chinese. _Is that their  
home language, or were they trying to keep me from listening in?_  
  
His school records didn't say much either. Highest marks in  
literature, especially classics, and physical education. Decent marks  
in sciences, and although his maths marks were indifferent at the  
beginning they had risen dramatically between his first and second  
years of schooling. An operative's note suggested this to be the  
result of tutoring by his guardians' sister-in-law Tendou Nabiki, the  
noted financiere.  
  
_Wait a second. There's a gap in his schooling. 2010  
through '12. It says he was in China with his guardians, and  
attending school in Li Shan Pu's ancestral village. But there's no  
record. Surely his school in Kyoto would have asked for  
something..._ His performance hadn't dropped, despite the gap. In  
fact, he'd shown an astronomical improvement in physical  
education, from merely the best in the class to an unnaturally high  
level of ability. _Shinji-kun, what were you _really_ doing in  
China?_   
*****  
  
No one could talk about anything save the new boy. "I bet  
he's a secret agent."  
  
"Oh, come on."  
  
"No, seriously. He's probably here to protect our school  
from terrorists. I saw it in a movie."  
  
"I think he's an undercover cop."  
  
"Nonsense. He's just a martial arts freak. My ma and da  
went to school with a whole bunch of them, some place called  
Furinkan High-- I think it's under the bay now."  
  
"My da said the pilot of that giant robot would be going to  
our school. I bet he's the one!"  
  
"So, Hikari-chan, what do you think?"  
  
"Mayuka-chan?"  
  
"About the new guy. Is he cute, or what?"   
  
Hikari sighed. "Cute. There's no denying it."  
  
"You interested?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not? Probably all you'd have to do is ask." Her   
eyelids fluttered. "Just look at those _lips_. He's got to be a good  
kisser."  
  
"Right. I'd have to beat off half a dozen girls just to get  
near him."  
  
"But Hikari-chan, he said he was enchanted with you, didn't  
he?"  
  
Hikari sighed. _May'-chan's really sweet, but dear gods  
she's dense sometimes._ "That's just a word some people say. It's  
the next step up from 'pleased to meet you.' You saw what his  
handwriting's like-- he probably says that to every girl he meets.   
Old-fashioned, you know?" Her blank look showed that she didn't.   
"Besides," Hikari continued, "he's too much like a character in a  
shoujo manga. I like comfortable guys."  
  
"Comfortable? Like anyone we know?" Mayuka giggled.  
  
"None of your business, May'-chan."  
  
*****  
"Well, Shin-chan, how was your day?" _I bet he'll loosen  
up if I keep calling him that._  
  
"Good enough, thank you, Captain. More rice?"  
  
"No, thanks, I'm fine for the moment. Really, what  
happened?"  
  
"Very little."  
  
"All the girls are chasing you, aren't they, Shin-chan?"  
  
"Not that I noticed, Captain."  
  
"Shin-chan. Don't call me that. I'm _Misato_, remember?"   
She cudgeled her brains for the old military phrase she'd learned in  
the two month Gehirn OCS. "We're off duty, and 'there's no rank  
in the mess,' right?"  
  
"Yes, Misato-san." _Damn it, he makes my _name_ sound  
just like 'Captain.' Maybe I should tell him to call me Mi-chan...  
No, too much like Kaji. And Daddy._  
  
*****  
"Ummm, excuse me?" the blonde girl said haltingly.  
  
Shinji laid down his copy of _Shi Jing_. "Yes?"  
  
"Ah... is it true what they say?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't follow..."  
  
"About you. That you're the pilot of that robot," her dark-  
haired companion filled in.  
  
"It is." Suddenly he was surrounded by at least three  
quarters of the class.  
  
"Yes! I knew it."  
  
"Oh my, I'm so impressed..."  
  
"How'd they pick you?"  
  
"Were you frightened?"  
  
"Does it have a special attack?"  
  
He cleared his throat. "I have no idea how I was chosen. I  
was no more or less frightened than I've been in any other fight.   
And there's no such thing as a special attack, only the attack that  
works in the given situation."   
  
"Wow."  
  
"He's been in fights before!"  
  
"I told you he was really from the army."  
  
"He's so handsome!"  
  
"I want to date with him!"  
  
"What was that _monster_?"  
  
"Some country's secret weapon?"  
  
"I have no idea. It would seem to be called an 'Angel,' but   
I was not informed as to its origin."  
  
"Ya don't know nothin', do ya? What are ya, stupid?" The  
speaker was tall and broad-shouldered for his age, dressed in a  
tracksuit, his speech thick with the accent of Osaka.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Suzuhara-kun!" piped the class representative. "You  
missed an entire week of school without permission."  
  
"It ain't none of yer concern!" He shoved an empty desk  
out of his way as he stomped towards Shinji's seat.  
  
A slight boy with glasses caught his arm. "Touji-kun! No!   
He's some kind of military operative-- he could probably blow your  
head off here and now, and they wouldn't even charge him." The  
Osakan shook his friend off, leaving him babbling something about  
"execution by special administrative procedure."  
  
"New kid! Step outside. Now!"  
  
The greater part of the class followed them outside,  
murmuring excitedly among themselves. "He's going to kill him."  
  
"With one blow, before Suzuhara even touches him."  
  
"Nah, Suzuhara'll get one punch in."  
  
"Two."  
  
"Want to put money on it?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous-- the new guy'll let him live. Just  
break his arms and legs or something."  
  
The babble was irritating. Shinji raised his hand, and the  
crowd-noise cut off sharply. "Now, then. You've something to say  
to me?"  
  
"Yeah. My younger sister, she was hurt bad-- pinned under  
rubble. An' you know what? It's your fault. 'Cause you had to go  
crashing around with that damn' robot!"  
  
"I am very sorry."  
  
"You tryin' to make fun or somethin'? 'Cause sorry don't  
cut it."  
  
"There's nothing more I can say. I wish I had been more  
experienced in the Evangelion unit, but I was not. Many things  
happen in battle which we later regret."  
  
"You know what? My pa 'n gramps both work in _your_  
lab. So I'm the only one can stay wit' her. It's not that I mind the  
time or anythin', but what if she gets some kinda scar? She'll never  
be a babe."  
  
"The most beautiful woman I've ever known has scars over  
half her face."  
  
"Who's that? Queen Emereldas?"  
  
"My foster mother."  
  
"Don't think you're so hot, just 'cause they're all over ya."  
  
"I would never dream of thinking such a thing."  
  
Suzuhara stepped closer, brandished his fist. Shinji didn't  
move a muscle. "Would it make you feel better to hit me?"  
  
"You makin' fun of me?"  
  
"I'll give you one clear shot."  
  
The Osakan drew his fist back to his ear, then lashed out  
with his best cross to the jaw. "Damn," he said, rubbing his  
knuckles. Shinji stood as if nothing had happened. "C'mon, new  
kid, ain't you gonna fight?"  
  
"No."  
  
Suzuhara cocked his fist. Shinji sighed. "One blow, I said."  
  
"Then put up your hands and fight, damn it!"  
  
Shinji reached out blurring swift and tapped his opponent   
lightly on the shoulder. The arm fell limp. "What the hell did you  
do?"  
  
"Just a pressure point. You'll recover full use in three  
hours." He turned his back and returned to the classroom, leaving  
behind both multiple arguments-- mostly over the definitions of  
"fight" and "blow"-- and the formative meeting of the Ikari Shinji  
Fan Club.  
  
*****  
Misato sighed and turned away from the monitor. _I almost  
wish I could have seen him in action. He must be beautiful... but  
no, he would have finished that clumsy boy in seconds._  
  
  
Shin-chan got into a confrontation at school today. Settled  
it without any bloodshed-- some kind of trick with pressure points.   
He moves so fast when he wants to.  
  
Mmmmm. The swing of that braid. I guess I've always had  
a hair fetish, haven't I? I keep hoping I'll walk in on him with it  
loose some night or morning. Isn't that pathetic? I had a dream  
last night where I ordered him to let me brush and plait it. And the  
thing is, I probably _could_. I think if I told him to come in the  
shower and scrub my back, he'd do it without a word of argument.  
  
Hmmmm, now there's an idea. I bet he gives great  
rubdowns, too. No, damn it, he's fourteen years old. Sure, that's  
the age of consent in this prefecture, but he's under my command.   
It wouldn't be right.   
  
Shin-chan, what happened to you? Why do you act like  
some kind of samurai? I wish you'd be more like a child,  
sometimes, just to remind me that I can't...  
  
  
She stopped writing. _Feck. Another page to shred._  
  
*****  
"Well, roomie, how goes it?"  
  
"I'm not fully satisfied with my control of the basic  
movements."  
  
"Shinji-kun," Ritsuko broke in, "you're already further  
along than our best pilot."  
  
"Irrelevant. In battle, the difference between life and death  
can be measured in millimeters."  
  
"Don't be so gloomy, Shin-chan."  
  
"I am merely being realistic, Misato-san. While I accept my  
own fate, the lives of civilians are at risk whenever the Evangelion  
unit is launched."  
  
"You know, I was actually asking about school."  
  
"Acceptable."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It is acceptable. The history curriculum seems over-  
absorbed with a few events in the recent past, and in literature there  
is excessive emphasis on the contemporary..."  
  
"The two of you can chat later. Are you ready for today's  
training?"  
  
"Exit gates, emergency power sources, armament buildings,  
and recovery sites."  
  
"You have them all memorised?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"We'll pick up from where we let off yesterday. Start  
induction mode."  
  
He didn't bother to speak. As the first target cleared its  
housing, a single slug hammered precisely through its center of  
mass. The same for the second, and the third...  
  
"Doctrine calls for three round bursts, Shin-chan."  
  
"Single shots seem to suffice, Misato-san."  
  
"These are targets, not Angels."  
  
"Very well." The next took a quick burst,   
  
"Kami-sama, his groups are _tight_."  
  
"Misato?"  
  
"Look. You can barely distinguish the one he hit with a  
burst from the one he hit with a single round."  
  
"So?"  
  
"He's some kind of incredible shot, Ritsuko."  
  
"Oh. Turning into a gun otaku, are you?"  
  
"No, it's just..."  
  
"Why are you so surprised? We already know Shinji-kun's  
a combat genius."  
  
"I didn't think he liked guns."  
  
"What does liking have to do with it?"  
  
*****  
"I'm home!"  
  
She was bathing. _I'll pretend I didn't hear him._ "Ohhhhh.   
A shower at the end of a long day. Nothing could be better."  
_Except a shower that's shared. Wouldn't it be nice if somebody  
took advantage of that open door? Stop it, Misato, you're being a  
pervert._   
  
"I bought dinner." She heard his footsteps in the kitchen.  
  
_Now why did I just do that? Silly Misato, you wanted to  
play with his head. Why? Because you're a perv. Stop talking to  
yourself._  
  
When she left the bathroom, dressed in her favourite short  
shorts and star-printed low-cut top, he was sitting on the floor with  
her penguin. _Petting him? And feeding him dried octopus? I  
guess he does have a soft side, after all._ "I didn't know you liked  
Pen-pen."  
  
"I am fond of animals. They're much more honest than  
humans."  
  
"Shin-chan, is something wrong?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"You've been down all afternoon. What's happening?" He  
didn't say anything. "It's all right, I won't tell anyone else." More  
silence. She knelt beside him. "Please. Is it something I did?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Is it something at school?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Is it the Eva?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"Please, Shinji, I need to know. Military necessity."  
  
"Very well. I... dislike fighting in the unit."  
  
"Don't tell me you could take an Angel without one." _I'm  
serious. Don't. If you did, I would have to believe you, and that  
would frighten me._  
  
"No. That's the problem. Such a massive, hulking,  
indiscriminate creature... how many innocent lives can it take?"  
  
"Shinji, I swear that we will _never_ use the Evangelion  
units against human beings. On my parents' ashes, kami be my  
witnesses all." She clapped her hands three times.  
  
"Thank you, Misato-san, but I am talking about accidental  
casualties. 'Collateral damage' is the term, I believe. How many  
old people, how many mothers, how many little girls might be killed  
because I or another pilot cannot fully control one of your  
damnable constructions?" _That boy this morning said something  
about his little sister. Is that what's gotten into Shinji?_   
  
She laid her hand on his shoulder, silently asking him to turn  
the gesture into an embrace. _For both our sakes, Shin-chan._  
"How people many might die if you didn't go out in the Eva?"  
  
"There's the problem. The curse of the warrior is that we  
must kill and die that others may live. But at least with swords the  
dying tends to be limited to those who have chosen the same path."  
  
It should have sounded fatuous, coming from a teenage boy  
in 2015, separated by generations from the dueling ground and the  
battlefield. But she looked into his eyes and saw something in them  
which said that this was not a quote from a musty text or an overly-  
romantic sensei, but a truth which had been learned first hand.   
_Shin-chan, what kind of life have you led?_  
  
"Excuse me." He rose quickly and entered his room,  
returning a moment later with a long, thin bag. He left the  
apartment.  
  
"Going to do forms on the roof, aren't you, Shin-chan?" she  
mused. He'd dropped a piece of paper on his way out. She  
couldn't help but glance at it. A florist's receipt. _Sweet on  
someone already?_ She couldn't resist a closer look. A quite  
expensive arrangement had been sent anonymously to one Suzuhara  
Sayuri, in the trauma ward at Tokyo-3 General.   
  
After a little while, she left the apartment and took to the  
stairs. Moving very slowly, she opened the door to the roof.  
_Don't be silly,_ she told herself, _he'll know you're up here no  
matter how quiet you are._ But somehow the effort of stealth was a  
comfort to her own nerves.  
  
Her breath caught in her throat. He was silhouetted against  
the western sky, and had taken off his shirt, revealing whipcord  
muscles under lightly-tanned skin. He was using a straight cross-  
hilted Chinese sword, moving with slow elegance. She sat down to  
watch.   
  
_Marvelous,_ she thought, watching a particularly graceful  
maneuver. Then a shiver ran through her. _That was the shadow of  
a killing. That lovely smooth foot-sweep took a man's legs out  
from under him, and as he fell that beautiful glittering sword-arc  
opened his neck._   
  
She glanced at her watch-- two hours since she'd come out  
on the roof. The sun had nearly set. _How long does he intend on  
being out here?_ She sat on the cusp between disturbing him and  
going down on her own.   
  
He fell back into guard, straightened, and bowed. Still  
silent and absorbed, he knelt for a moment, wiping the blade with a  
cloth and returning it to the bag before donning his shirt.  
  
She sat still as he came toward the door. _Should I pretend  
I'm not here?_   
  
"Misato-san?" He was holding the door for her.  
  
"Oh. Thanks." Her eyes met his for a moment, and the  
ghost of a smile passed across his features.  
  
*****  
_What a strange person._ Ikari spent most of the time  
between lessons reading. As near as Hikari could tell, his tastes  
leaned towards Tang Dynasty poetry, in the original language,  
which he seemed to read-- without a lexicon-- as fluently as anyone  
else might scan a manga.  
  
He didn't talk much, but was unfailingly polite, in a cool  
fashion. At the moment he was ringed by girls, including her friend  
Mayuka. _And what's scary is that May'-chan is probably the  
clever one, in that bunch._ "So, um, Ikari-kun, what's that you're  
reading?" one asked, a short pale girl whose name Hikari was  
having trouble remembering just now. _Gosunkugi. Gosunkugi  
Akane. That's it._   
  
"A poem by Tu Fu." Most of them looked completely  
blank. "A Chinese poet from a thousand years ago." His eyes lit  
up slightly. "It's called 'Ballad of the War Carts.'"  
  
"Oh. What's it..."   
  
Mayuka elbowed Gosunkugi in the ribs. "Could you read it  
to us?" she said, fluttering her eyelashes.  
  
"It's rather long..."  
  
"Just a bit, please?"  
  
"Very well." He launched into a fluent burst of Classical  
Chinese. "As near as I can put it into Japanese:  
  
The soldier says: "It's the way of the world.  
At fifteen men are sent to guard the North,  
And at forty they work the army farms in the West.  
When we left home, the headman had to tie our turbans,  
And now, white-haired, we still patrol the frontier.  
The hinterland forts run with blood to fill an ocean,  
And the Emperor's dreams of conquest never end.  
Hasn't he heard that in Han, east of the mountains,  
Two hundred prefectures, with their thousands of villages,  
Grow only thorns?  
  
_A strange person,_ Hikari thought, _but not a bad one._   
*****  
  
"What'cha doin', Shin-chan?" He had cleared a space on  
the kitchen table and laid out ink, brush, and rice paper.  
_Calligraphy? A project for school? A love note?_  
  
"Writing home."  
  
"Oh." _Why doesn't he just use email like a normal person?   
Or at least a ballpoint?_  
  
"Writing is always better with the brush. It brings back  
good memories."  
  
He was positively loquacious today. _Maybe all those girls  
are drawing him out a bit._ "Of school in China?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
_Two almost-smiles in as many days. Maybe we are getting  
somewhere._  
*****  
  
Shinji looked out over the peaceful landscape. He was so  
close to satori he could almost taste it, the mind like the moon on  
the water, accepting all and judging nothing, the effortless state of  
grace he had only known in combat. He saw the trees and did not  
loathe their cloned uniformity; he smelled the air and did not hate  
the tang of industry. He could feel something off in the distance,  
and he thought for a moment that he might reach it, understand it,  
know its alien needs and alien desires and how it fit into the Tao--  
  
"Up on da roof all by his lonesome! Da pitcher of da tragic  
hero!" The Osakan tended to exaggerate his accent, probably  
hoping to annoy the urbane pilot. Most days, Shinji found it mildly  
amusing. This time, however, he forced down a tide of genuine  
irritation. _So close..._  
  
"All right, what do you want now?"   
  
The shaggy-haired boy with glasses was there as well, his  
ever present video camera apparently forgotten in his left hand. He  
was muttering something under his breath. "Please don't let him  
pull out a suppressed ten millimeter automatic loaded with subsonic  
hollowpoint rounds and shoot us both between the eyes..." The  
pilot's lip quirked ever so slightly.  
  
"Moron! What makes ya think we want anythin' from ya?"  
  
"Pity you're so bored, then. Checking on me for no reason-  
- it's quite pathetic, really."  
  
"I may not have a reason to be talkin' wit' you, but one  
thing's f' sure: I hate yer guts!" Suzuhara balled his hand into a fist  
and held it beneath Shinji's nose.  
  
The pilot shook his head. "You're trying to pick a fight  
with me. Don't bother."  
  
"I can't stand that hot crap attitude a' yours.."  
  
"I've more important things to do with my time than worry  
about what you might happen to think."  
  
Suzuhara drew back his fist. Shinji sighed. "You're wide  
open, d'you know that?"  
  
The stairwell door opened. Ayanami stepped out, still  
bandaged, her arm in a sling. "Ikari-kun? We've just received an  
emergency call. I'll see you there."  
  
Shinji brushed past Suzuhara as if the blocky boy were a  
potted plant. "Ayanami-san. May I accompany you?" He opened  
the door, waved the blue-haired girl through.  
  
*****  
The shelter was brightly lit, filled with people. Hikari sat on  
a cushion among her classmates and tried to ignore their babble.   
Most of it was the usual idle speculation which had accompanied  
such events all her life, dozens of silly drills blown up into alien  
invasions and Third Impacts.   
  
"Ikari-kun's out there fighting to protect us," Mayuka said.  
  
"He's soooo brave," sighed a half-dozen others.  
  
Suzuhara and Aida were up on their feet, leaving their place  
on the fringe of the cluster of boys that sat nearby, near enough to  
see the girls without actually having to risk talking with them.   
Hikari fixed them with her best Class Rep stare. "Where are you  
going?"  
  
"Ahh, to the gents'," Aida said.  
  
"Well, you'd better hurry it up." _What a pair of idiots.   
Even if they are _cute_ idiots._  
  
*****  
"Are you ready, Shinji?"  
  
"Yes, Misato-san." He was dressed in his plugsuit, the skin-  
tight material showing his muscles to a disconcerting degree. _He  
looks like a hero from a mecha anime. All he needs is a breeze to  
dramatically stir his forelock._ One part of her wanted to laugh.   
Another wanted to throw her arms about him and tell him to _come  
back_, or she'd hunt him into the spirit world and beat him to an  
astral pulp. She pushed them both down.  
  
"No heroics, remember?"  
  
"All is part of the Tao. I surrender myself to the currents of  
the battlefield."  
  
"Just keep yourself alive, okay? We need your Eva." _And  
I need you._  
  
He dropped into the entry plug without another word. As  
the metal cylinder slid home, Misato's hand clenched around the  
cross that hung from her neck. _Whoever's listening, keep him  
safe, please?_  
  
*****  
"Kensuke, wait up, already! You're goin' too fast."   
  
The young otaku slackened his pace, but only a little.   
"C'mon, Touji! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity." He  
reached the top of the hill in one final burst of speed, dropped to  
one knee in the tall grass.  
  
"Once in a lifetime opportunity is right. We'll probably lose  
our lifetimes doin' this." The Osakan was breathing hard. _Touji-  
kun may be stronger, but I've got more wind._  
  
"Well, if you hadn't punched Ikari we wouldn't owe him..."  
  
"Punchin' Ikari is like punchin' a _wall_. Except I think  
maybe da wall wouldn't hurt y' hand so much. Besides, you're da  
man wanted to come out an' see da battle."  
  
"There it is!" It was ugly, something like the result of a  
squid's mating with a centipede. More disconcerting than its  
appearance was the way it floated a few meters off the ground.  
_Lighter than air? Or does it have antigrav?_  
  
"Dat's an _Angel_? Son of a _bitch_. Ain't angels  
supposed to be pretty, wit' long hair an' wings?"  
  
"They just call them that, Touji," Kensuke muttered, aiming  
his camcorder. _This disk is going to be worth a fortune._   
  
"I know _dat_. I just thought..."  
  
"Never mind! There's the robot!" The blast-door slid  
down from what looked like a tall building. The towering  
humanoid figure, spindly and mis-proportioned, dropped into a  
forward roll, snatching a giant-sized automatic rifle and coming up  
on one knee to snap off a quick burst before rolling again to  
another position. "That's got to be at least a fifty millimeter. No  
way that thing can survive..."  
  
The Angel absorbed the mixed HE and depleted uranium  
without taking any apparent notice. Ikari surged forward, firing all  
the while with metronomic regularity before closing to batter the  
alien being with rifle-butt and feet.  
  
*****  
"Yes!" Misato screamed. "Kill it!" She wished for a  
moment that she were with her housemate, able to fight or die at his  
side, not hiding here below the surface. _Of course, we'll probably  
be the next target if it does... no, it _will not_ win._  
  
*****  
Hikari looked at her watch. Twenty minutes. _There's no  
way those two could take this long. They're up to something._  
  
She made her way across the room. A gray-haired woman  
sat watching over two small sleeping children, not far from the  
restrooms. "Excuse me, ma'am," she whispered, "did you see two  
boys come past here? One of them's skinny, with glasses, and the  
other's tall and kind of muscular."  
  
"Why, yes, dear. They went that way." She pointed away  
from the men's room. Towards the exit.  
  
"Thanks, ma'am." Hikari ran for the door. _Idiots. If you  
get yourselves killed, I'm going to hurt you._  
  
*****  
"That thing's _good_."  
  
"Shee-it. I thought Ikari could kill anything on two legs  
'thout breakin' a sweat."  
  
"It doesn't have legs, Touji."  
  
"Maybe dat's what's wrong." The combatants were  
throwing up a massive cloud of dust. They could see only quick  
flashes of action; the Eva's heels scything towards their target, the  
Angel's tentacles lashing out blurring-swift, the Eva dodging and  
striking again.  
  
"Suzuhara! Aida! Come inside at once!"  
  
"Class Rep?"  
  
*****  
Shinji was completely immersed in the eternal present, in the  
perfect warrior's mind, a concentration so complete as to give  
awareness of all things. Afterward, as always, he would wonder  
what secrets he had learned in that state, how close he had come to  
Enlightenment. But now there were only fists and feet and rifle,  
dancing in the void with the alien's appendages.  
  
There was a blow he could not dodge or absorb. There was  
only one choice, and he took it without hesitation, springing back  
and letting the force of the enemy's energy-lash throw him off,  
towards the hill with the temple atop it...  
  
There were civilians there, he noted dispassionately. Out of  
their shelters. _May Kuan Yin keep them safe,_ a tiny corner of his  
mind prayed, while rest modified his landing roll to avoid crushing  
them.  
  
*****  
"Shinji! No!" Misato screamed as the Evangelion hurtled  
through the air. "Umbilical cable severed! Eva switching to  
internal battery power! Shinji, you've four minutes and fifty-three  
seconds. Defeat it, now!" He'd lost the rifle in the confusion. No  
matter, as her readouts showed it out of ammunition. There wasn't  
a spare within reach.  
  
*****  
The Angel was closing. They would fight here, and anyone  
on the ground would be killed inevitably in the battle, crushed to  
death like crickets in a tavern brawl. "No!" he screamed, only half-  
realising that he was no longer speaking Japanese, but the  
countryish Mandarin of the Qinghai Amazon Free State. "Not  
again!"  
  
*****  
"Get in the plug! Now!" A giant metal cylinder had been  
extended from the robot's back, and Ikari was hanging out of the  
hatch, fluid dripping from his bangs.  
  
"What da hell!" Suzuhara exclaimed.  
  
"In here, with me. All of you. Now!"  
  
Aida's face was frozen between two expressions: utter  
terror and childlike joy. Suzuhara was simply stunned. Hikari took  
control of the situation. "All right, you morons, do what he says!"  
  
"But.." She grabbed each by the shirt.  
  
*****  
"Shinji! You can't let unauthorized civilians into the entry  
plug!" He wasn't listening. "Don't do this to me! Please?!" No  
luck. The girl was dragging the two boys towards the waiting  
hatch. Her computer display told her these were Shinji's fellow  
students; she ignored it. All that mattered was her housemate, who  
was not going to die. The universe owed her a debt for its past  
unkindness; it was not going to deny her a chance to kick Ikari  
Shinji's rear end. The clock was ticking away on the internal power  
source.  
  
*****  
"But... we'll drown in there."  
  
"Ikari-kun hasn't, has he?" She shoved the two boys inside,  
dropped behind them. Immediately, the hatch closed.  
  
"Don't try to hold your air. The liquid is breathable." the  
pilot commented, already back in his seat.  
  
"What da..."  
  
"Be quiet."  
  
*****  
Ritsuko was screaming behind her. "We're detecting  
irregularities in the nervous system! It's because he's taken on  
three foreign bodies! There's noise mixed in with the nerve  
pulses!" On one level Misato wanted to slap her old friend; on  
another she wanted to grab hold of her and hug her tight, as the  
closest convenient substitute for her old teddy bear.  
  
The clock was ticking down. _Shin-chan, I hope that in our  
next incarnation _you're_ the one behind the lines and _I'm_ the  
warrior. I want you to put you through every bit of this crap..._  
"Retreat, you idiot! Use retrieval route 39-- fall back to the  
western side of the mountain!"  
  
Ritsuko was screaming something new. "Irregularities are  
fading! And the internal battery..."  
  
*****  
He could feel the disharmony in the Evangelion's nervous  
system. It grated. He reached out with his chi and took control,  
damping the three chaotic untrained flows. The power was running  
down; he reached to heaven and earth for more, opening himself as  
a conduit. "Time to end this," he muttered, reaching for his one  
remaining weapon. Blades were always the best choice.  
  
*****  
"Hey, uh, Ikari-kun. She's tellin' ya ta fall back..."  
  
Hikari put her hand over his mouth. "Shut up, Suzuhara-  
kun. Let the man fight."  
  
*****  
"Shinji!" she screamed helplessly.  
  
"The progressive knife is drawn!" cried one of the techs.  
  
"Dear gods," Ritsuko muttered, "The power levels are  
going _up_. He's got four minutes now!"  
  
The fight was over within ten seconds. Within forty, the  
Eva's battery levels had dropped to nearly nothing.  
  
*****  
The dispassionate fury of battle left him, and he could no  
longer sustain the great war machine. "Ikari-kun?" Horaki-san's  
hand was on his shoulder.   
  
"Give me a moment."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
He'd spoken in Chinese again. "I'll eject the plug. I'm  
afraid you'll have to walk home." They climbed out and dropped  
to the surface; he had barely enough strength left to help Horaki-  
san down.  
  
The boy with glasses was interspersing coughing up LCL  
with babbling something about grateful, and tremendous, and  
thank-you-for-this-once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity. Shinji didn't feel  
up to following it.  
  
A tilt-rotor with NERV markings screamed in, landing  
perilously close to the stationary Eva. Misato jumped out before  
the pilot could extend the boarding ladder, knees bent to take the  
fall. "You three, get in the 'rotor. Now!" When they were out of  
sight, she grasped a fistful of plug suit, shoved her face in his.   
"What in nine hells was the meaning of that, Ikari Shinji?"  
  
"It is the duty of a warrior to preserve the lives of non-  
combatants."  
  
"Why the hell didn't you retreat when I ordered you to,  
then?"  
  
"It was necessary to end the fight before further damage  
could ensue. A prolonged retreat, followed by a counter-attack,  
might have endangered the area's shelters."  
  
*****  
*Smack* She realised a moment after the sound that she  
had struck him across the face. It felt good. She drew back her  
hand to slap him again.  
  
Her eyes met his. They were deep, patient. He was making  
no attempt to evade her blows. He seemed to be saying: go ahead,  
hit me; as my superior officer, it is your right. She felt sick at heart.  
  
"Oh gods, Shin-chan." Before she quite knew what she was  
doing she had embraced him. There were tears in her eyes. "I was  
so worried about you..." she trailed off, crying.  
  
His arms slid around her back. "You shouldn't."  
  
"Yes, I should." She looked down into his eyes, startled to  
realise that he was two centimeters shorter than herself. "I'm too  
young to die of a heart attack, okay?"  
  
"I shall endeavour to prevent such an occurrence." _He's  
smiling. He's really smiling!_ She was sorely tempted to kiss him.  
  
*****  
"Oh man! That's Ikari's CO? I wish a girl like that would  
order _me_ around."  
  
"Ikari's workin' wit' dat superior babe? No wonder he  
don't notice da girls in class."  
  
"Shut up, you goons," Hikari snapped.  
  
Kensuke moved to the window, peeking around the edge.   
"Oh my God, look at this."  
  
"Don't be a jerk, Aida-kun."  
  
Suzuhara peered over his friend's head. "Dey... dey got no  
shame..."  
  
Despite her better instincts, Hikari took a glance. Her  
classmate and the uniformed woman were in each others' arms.   
She couldn't see their faces clearly, but they were close together,  
and the woman's fingers were twined about Ikari's braid. "We're  
not going to talk about this at school, are we?" She laid a hand on  
the back of each neck.  
  
Suzuhara gulped. "No, Class Rep."  
  
"But, Class Rep--" she gently squeezed Aida's nape.   
"Okay, we won't."  
  
"Good boys."  
  
*****  
She took her lips from his cheek. "Let's go _home_,  
okay?"  
  
"Y... Okay." The word sounded foreign on his tongue. She  
laughed, and gave him one final hard squeeze before letting go.  
_Ikari Shinji, I think I lo... like you._  
  
**********  
Author's Notes:  
This is an attempt on my part to re-write the second volume of the  
manga as it would be in a world where Suzuhara's mocking  
comment (Viz translation, graphic novel, page 43) was simply the   
truth.  
  
The lines quoted from Tu Fu's "Ballad of the Army Carts" are my own  
rendering, based on several different translations. As I have about  
five words of present-day Mandarin and absolutely no Classical  
Chinese, this is not to be taken as any sort of authoritative version.   
My favourite translation of this poem on the web is David Lunde's  
at: http://www.chinapage.com/poet-e/dufu2e.html. There are several   
other very nice translations of Chinese poetry on the same site.  
  
Any martial arts errors are my fault and not my shifu's. 


	2. Chapter 2

The Picture of the Tragic Hero, chapter two

A Neon Genesis Evangelion alternate universe fanfic

By Andrew yclept Aelfwine

* * *

The characters and situations of Neon Genesis Evangelion, Megatokyo, Ranma ? Harry Potter, and anything I may have missed are copyright their respective creators and publishers. They may not be used or reproduced commercially without permission. The use of these characters and situations is not to be construed as challenge to said copyright. They are merely borrowed for this work of non-commercial fanfiction, from which the author derives no financial benefit.

* * *

Warnings: Violence. Sexual references. Giant robots. Yours truly.

* * *

Mr. Largo the English teacher left halfway through class, muttering something about hordes of zombies in a cave of evil beneath the streets and needing his crossbow. At least this time he'd taken the door, rather than bounding out the window. 

If they'd been faced with such an incident last year, her classmates might have panicked and run away themselvs. Now they simply put away their books and papers and and took advantage of the free time in whatever fashion pleased them: gossiping, reading, drawing their magical-princess alter egos waltzing with long-haired giant robot pilots. Did they take the teacher's departure so calmly because they'd at last become accustomed to his insanity? Because after two attacks by giant aliens they were no longer frightened of anything less? Or because they thought the safest place in the world was, by definition, wherever Ikari Shinji was?

Hikari pulled her gaze away from the elaborate sequence Mayuka was midway through inking. _She's a good artist, but I didn't want to know that much about her fantasies._ Her eyes scanned over Suzuhara and Aida, sharing a newspaper and chattering about the International Main Battle Tank Championship, and fell on Ikari, who had taken out a sheaf of paper, an inkstone, and a brush. Ayanami, beside him, pulled a battered paperback from her bag. It looked like a novel; the cover, in a style that managed to be simultaneously florid and photorealistic, depicted a woman in black tunic and trousers, sword and pistol at her belt, her hair tied in a long red braid, gesturing grandly before a crowd of adolescents in black robes. The title read: _Harry Potter and the Genetically-Engineered Posthuman Professor From an Alternate Universe_.

Outside, tires squealed and an engine roared. "Street racers?" someone said. "A police chase?" said someone else. A bit less than half of the class got up from their seats and ran over to the window. The rest continued to gaze dreamily at Ikari.

"Who is she? A new teacher?" 

"Wow! She's _hot_!" Hikari glanced outside. A purple haired woman wearing a miniskirt and a military-styled jacket was locking the door of a battered blue subcompact car. Who was...? She turned towards the school, and Hikari recognised her. Captain Katsuragi.

"Don't bother," Suzuhara said. "She's Ikari's lady."

_She's not,_ Hikari thought, _however much she might wish to be._ She should have corrected Suzuhara, in the interest of politeness and good discipline and not spreading gossip, but she hadn't the energy.

Hearing that, most of the rest got up and ran to the window. "Think she'd share?"

"Think he'd?"

"An older woman! We never had a chance." Five or six of the girls and a couple of the boys, including the star of the basketball team, hid their faces in their hands.

"I wouldn't mind dating _both_ of them," Mayuka murmured, her eyes half closed.

Ikari appeared oblivious, covering his paper with professional-grade calligraphy. _Mayuka thinks he's writing love poems for a mysterious lady who lives in a castle and ignores him. Aida thinks he's composing a martial arts manual. Me, I think he's writing home. Which is, in a way, more intimidating than their hypotheses._

Ayanami's eyes remained on her book, but a small smile quirked her lips for a moment.

* * *

"So, Captain Katsuragi, you're young Ikari's _parent_?" The vice principal raised her eyebrow. Misato forced herself not to squeeze the arms of her chair too hard; it would only make her palms sweat more.

"Oh, no. We live together, that's all." _Damn. Exactly what I didn't want to say_. "That is... he's part of my command. We're billeted together. For military reasons."

"I see." The vice principal pursed her lips. _Well, she thinks I'm a teenager-molesting pervert. So, is she disgusted, or jealous?_

"Commander Ikari would have come, but you know how busy things are at NERV. I could only get away for an hour, myself. And that only because I'm taking Shinji and Miss Ayanami to the Geofront for another session in the combat simulator afterward."

"Hem hem. This is very irregular, Captain. Of course, Mr. Ikari _is_ very irregular, himself."

"Surely you're not saying he's a discipline problem, ma'am."

"Mr. Ikari is a perfect, polite, well-behaved, courteous, self-disciplined young gentleman. His example inspires his fellow students to exhibit good citizenship and excell in their studies. Grades have gone up since his arrival in our community, discipline problems have declined, and truancy in his class has virtually ceased. His mere presence stops fights and prevents bullying.

"But you have to admit that it's... unusual to have a young man in a junior high school who, despite his birth certificate, appears to be nearer to twenty than fourteen. A young man who, for your... hem hem... military reasons is excused from wearing school uniform. A young man who attracts constant attention and highly flirtatious behaviour from our girls, as well as from those young... gentlemen so inclined, despite doing nothing to encourage this attention. Nothing _overt_, I should say." __

She really did look like a toad. And the pink headband was ridiculous. Misato schooled her face to impassivity, forced herself not to giggle. _Jealous, definitely._

* * *

"A parent-teacher conference? Truly?" Ritsuko snickered. "So, did they kick you out? Tell you the dirty-old-lady-teacher conferences are next week?"

"Damnit, Ritsuko! I am _not_ a dirty old lady! I have done _nothing_ irregular with Shinji. You've seen more of his skin than I have, _Doctor_ Akagi."

Her friend's eyes were wide. "Misato, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

"I'm sorry as well, Ritsuko. I'm just... stressed." Misato let go her crumpled beer can, grateful it had been empty and none had spilled.

"It's stressful times. So... do you think this Jet-Alone thing will make our job easier? Or take it over?"

"Let's see... an all-mechanical giant robot with an on-board nuclear reactor. No crew, only a clumsy attempt at artificial intelligence. And there's no evidence that its weapons can pierce an AT field... No, I don't expect it will."

"Nice of them to lay out such a spread, all the same," Ritsuko said. "I'm looking forward to this test for more reasons than just watching the Jet-Alone Mech fail and prove in the sight of all the media just how necessary NERV are. Because, no matter what happens, there's champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries for afters."

* * *

They were leaving the school building when a VTOL came overhead. Hikari wondered if Mr. Largo had done something to attract the media again. Then she looked up, and realised the craft was military, not a brightly painted traffic 'rotor from one of the local radio stations.

Ikari had a cellphone out. She'd never seen him use such a thing before. It seemed out of character, like a samurai in full armour drinking coffee from a can. But there it was, pressed to his ear. And Ayanami was beside him.

The VTOL had tilted its rotors upward, was descending to the soccer pitch. Aida Kensuke looked delighted, as glowingly happy as Mayuka'd have been if Ikari had shown up at school wearing only a loincloth and brought her lunch besides.

"Ikari," someone shouted, "is it another Angel?"

"No," he said. "There's a giant robot running loose-not one of our Eva."

"What will you do?" Mayuka said.

"Stop it. Best you were all off the streets." He headed for the pitch, Ayanami beside him.

"Good luck!" Hikari called after them.

* * *

Damnation. She'd known this wasn't going to work. "Shin-chan, there's no way to get a helicopter close enough. Even you can't leap a hundred meters onto the back of a running giant robot."

"But I _can_ position myself on the ground or in a building, catch hold of the leg, and climb up to the control room. And my chi is strong enough to resist the radiation levels. As, with respect, Captain, yours is not."

"I'll have a rad suit, Shin-chan. And don't call me 'Captain.'"

"That is not sufficient protection, Misato-san."

"Shin-chan, we need you to pilot Eva. Ayanami isn't back in fighting shape yet, the Fourth Child isn't ready... you're all we've got. I, on the other hand, am expendable."

"You are _not_ expendable, Misato-san."

"You're the one who's always talking like the perfect soldier, Shin-chan. You know about military necessity. Damn it, you know full well I'm more expendable than you. Shinji, listen to me." No honourific. She'd known Kaji for six months, and slept with him once, before she used his name alone.

There was a long silence. "True. Very well. You will ride in the hand of my Eva, and I will place you on the robot. And if you die... I'll be very unhappy with you, Misato." No honourific. 

"So will I. And don't worry, I'm not going to let myself die when I've not even had a chance to embarrass you in front of a girlfriend yet."

He smiled, slowly. "Very well. Let's saddle up."

"Wait a moment." She caught him in her arms and pulled him close. "I need a hug. And so do you."

* * *

Shinji forced his consciousness into the Eva. There was the usual odd sensation, as if someone else were there in the system as well, someone half-present, someone almost familiar. He drew himself away from the thought. 

T-minus thirty seconds. 

A small eternity. After which, he would be on the ground, running, catching up with the rogue machine and placing his friend on its back. Placing his friend in danger. He had sent friends into danger before, commanded friends in battle... but this wasn't battle. And this friend, for all her rank and uniform, was no warrior. She had never made the deadly bargain, never sworn to risk her blood and life defending family and friends. 

But she had chosen. And he would do all within his power to ensure that this choice was not her last. The hug had allowed him to stimulate certain of her meridians... not, perhaps, the best ones for strengthening her body against radiation, but the ones most easily reached. Her speed and balance would be improved, not enough to throw her off her own movements, but enough to aid her clinging to the robot and making her way into the control room.

And for afterward, he had certain techniques of massage and acupuncture, and the recipe for a medical potion which, properly administered, might heal the body of anything less than an immediately fatal overdose of gamma rays. Treatments which had been developed by the Chinese Amazons in the middle years of the last century, when the old Soviet and American alliances were stockpiling fission and fusion bombs like rodents storing seeds for the winter.

As a boy of ten, Shinji had never understood why the Elder Kuh-lohn had required him to memorise such treatments; atomics had been replaced in the armouries by N2 explosives and nuclear power plants had become safe as windmills. _Thank you, Elder, for your foresight and wisdom. And, if the laws of Heaven permit, watch over my friend, I pray you._

T minus one.

T time. And there was only action, and the moment.

* * *

It was over. She'd done it. Deactivated the Jet-Alone Mech, somehow. And taken a dose of radiation in the process. A fatal dose, she expected.

Shinji's face loomed in her vision. "Don't, Shin-chan, it's no use," she said, but he ignored her. Or perhaps she hadn't really said it, only tried.

He'd got her helmet off. She realised, dimly, irrelevantly, that a bead of LCL was clinging to his nose. Sickening stuff. She could smell it. But there was a scent of sweat, and

Shinji, that cut across the worst of the reek. If she had to die, there were worst scents to have in her nostrils at the end. His fingers were probing her face. There was a hint of pain, then warmth, or was it merely an absence of pain spreading through her body? 

"What are you doing?" she said.

"Saving your life." 

"Too late. I took too many rads."

"Nonsense." He'd opened up her collar. "Accupressure to stabilise you, a course of acupuncture, a few doses of medicinal herbs, and you'll be ready for anything. It shouldn't take more than a week."

"Ready for anything?"

"Well... almost anything. I've called in one of my uncles to be your sensei. Once you've studied with him for a few years, I expect you'll be ready for anything."

"My sensei? I don't need to learn martial arts. If I need anyone beaten up, I've got you to do it for me." Christ and the Amida Buddha out drinking beer, why had she said _that_?

He was grinning. Her face felt warm. Whatever his fingers were doing in the vicinity of her jawline felt almost obscenely good. _Fourteen_, she thought to herself. _Fourteen. Even if he were the age he looks, he'd be a college student. You've not slept with a nineteen-year-old since you were nineteen yourself._ It wasn't working.

"Misato," he said, "if you're going to make a habit of climbing giant robots, you're going to have to start practicing for it. Unless you'll promise to let me climb them for you from now on, I'll have to insist."

"That's insubord... insubordination." She could barely get the word out for giggling.

"Which is sometimes necessary. My old-I mean, a wise old top sergeant I once knew-once told me he'd never knock an officer down and sit on him unless said officer insisted on taking point in clearing an enemy fortress when there were troopers there who were harder to break, more experienced at clearing fortresses, and less skilled at mag... I mean, at dealing with the enemy's communications and information processing systems."

"Shinji," she whispered, and was absurdly pleased at how near he brought his face to hers, "I know there's something about your past, something you can't tell me. I'll trust that it's nothing that threatens NERV, or Tokyo-3, or... or yourself, until you feel able to tell me about it. But I have to ask, and I'm hoping you'll tell me, if only by saying yes or no... did you fight in a war somewhere? Or... some_when_?"

"Yes, Misato," he said, very softly.

"Thank you." She thought of something else. "Why haven't we been swarmed by reporters and UN troopers and all the other odds and sods?"

"I might have used a... technique."

"Magic, in other words."

"You could call it that."

"Excellent. I don't want to deal with Rits-chan just now. Especially if, as I suspect, this accupressure of yours has got to go lower down."

"I'm afraid it does."

"Fine by _me_. Although I should warn you... I've only got my knickers on under this suit."

His face reddened, but his voice was steady. "Mixed bathing is the custom of the Amazon Autonomous Region. It's nothing I've not seen before." 

"Oh. I wish you'd told me that earlier. I _hate_ having to wear clothes at home." He was blushing for true now. "Ha, I knew I'd get that reaction somehow. You're cute when you blush, Shin-chan."

"Thank you. And... you also, Mi-chan."

* * *

Something smelled good. Not quite familiar, but good. Almost good enough to make Misato ignore the pounding in her head and the nasty taste in her mouth. _Shouldn't've gone out with the bridge crew last night._ She was mostly recovered from her experiment in giant-robot-climbing, but the liquor still hit stronger than it ought to. She remembered stumbling out of a cab, propped up by Ritsuko and her sweet little shadow, Ibuki, and being half-carried to the door of the building, where Shinji, dressed in his exercise clothes, collected her. She hoped she'd not whispered anything embarrassing in his ear as he helped her upstairs to their flat.

Water. She wanted water. Both as a drink and as a shower. She hauled herself to her feet and headed for the door. There was something she needed to do. _Clothes? No. We take those off _in_ the bathroom, Misato. There's a man in the house. And he didn't sleep in your bed last night. Damn it._

Out into the hallway. The pleasant smell was coming from the kitchen. She was tempted to go straight to the table and sit down. Whatever-it-was smelt good enough to overpower the taste in her mouth, and she was remembering that she did, in fact, possess a stomach and that said stomach was quite empty. 

_No. First bathe, _then_ eat. After all, that's Shinji cooking. And I want to look good for him._ Never mind the fact that he probably thought a chainmail bikini, warpaint, and a slight misting of enemy blood was the height of female fashion. Or whatever it was that sword-swinging warrior women actually wore. _He might even think I smell good right now._ His eyes would open wide, and he'd _move_, and she'd know he was about to throw her to the floor and ravish her, and she'd want nothing better in all the world. But his gallant nature would overwhelm his burning flame of primal manhood, he'd stop himself in mid-leap, and then _she'd_ ravish _him_ on the kitchen table.

_No._ She stopped herself. _We're soldiers, we can't just do that. He's under my command. And Commander Ikari would _never_ wink and nod at fraternisation just because it meant his son was getting lucky._

Shower. She needed it. Down the hall with her, and into the bathroom. She turned the water on, let it get hot. The steam began to clear her head. She reached down to take the hem of her shirt and draw it over her head... and her fingers closed on empty air. 

Damn. Last night had been so sweaty she'd wound up sleeping in only her knickers. _Just as well I decided to bathe first._ Her face grew hot at the thought of stumbling into the kitchen, half asleep and five-sixths naked, to find her pilot peacefully stirring a pot and contemplating Confucian ethics. Or whatever it was he thought about whilst he was cooking. She always thought about beer and men, which was probably why her cooking was barely edible, let alone palatable. 

Granted, he'd seen as much of her body already. But that was medical. Not at all the same thing. And she'd lain on a massage table in the Geofront with a cloth over her for the follow-up treatments.

When she finally walked into the kitchen, properly dressed in a tee shirt tied up just below her breasts and a ragged pair of cut-off jeans she'd had since high school, her hair tied loosely back with a scrap of ribbon, she found Shinji at the table with a book, Pen-pen sitting beside him as if the penguin were reading over his shoulder, and a pot of bubbling something on the range. "Hey, good-looking, what's cooking?" she said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Congee. It's a recipe of my foster grandfather's." 

Rice porridge for breakfast. Wasn't that taking the ancient Chinese thing a little too far? _At least it's not cold pizza, black coffee, and flat beer. _"Smells good. Is it ready?"

"Yes." He made to rise, and she gently pushed him down. _Damn, his shoulder feels like iron bars wrapped in rawhide and rubber. _Warm_ iron bars wrapped in rawhide and rubber, with a layer of soft glove-leather over the lot._ "No, I'll get it. And yours as well, if you've not eaten yet."

"That-"

"Would be completely proper. I'm the woman of the house. And you're the one who actually fights to defend, among others, me. Let me spoil you, for once, please?"

"As you wish."

She giggled and went to get two bowls and the small plate of pickles he'd laid out on the counter.

With food, three cups of tea, and a beer in her stomach, memories of yesterday at work began to return. Ritsuko had given her a new ID card for Rei; she'd meant to stop by the girl's apartment and deliver it when she went home to change before going out.

Which hadn't happened, of course, as Ritsuko, the stupid bint, had collared her two hours later and hauled her straightaway to the nearest bar. She ought to deliver it today. But... _it's an easy walk, they've no school today, and Shinji should get to know his comrade._ The two were polite to each other, of course, and worked well together in training, but... _Shinji needs someone his own age. Someone who _understands_ what his life is like, not one of those silly girls who think he's an anime hero and only needs a perky yet fetchingly vulnerable consort to make his life complete. And once he's safely attached, to Rei or, if that doesn't work out, to the Second Child, I can stop thinking about him, and start looking for a man my own age. Right?_

"Shin-chan," she said sweetly, "would you do me a little favour?"

"I am at your command," he said. Had the little twinkle always been there in his eye, when he said things like that, and had she simply not known how to see it before she climbed the Jet-alone Mech?

"Ritsuko gave me Rei's new ID card yesterday, and you know I've got all this paperwork to catch up on, so... Could you take it by her place? If you're not busy?"

"I'll deliver it for you."

"You're sure it's no trouble? If it is, I could stop by tommorrow and drop it off."

"It would be no trouble at all."

* * *

He wished Misato wouldn't drink quite so much. It didn't affect her to half the degree one might expect-the resources of her physical and energy bodies must be quite profound-but the sight of someone so full of off-kilter courage and bright humour taking such quantities of toxin was saddening.

Especially when one thought of the eventual result of many more years of such self-poisoning. It would be a tragedy, on so many levels, to lose the keen mind that shone through her camouflage, or to ruin her lovely body. Which he would _not_ think about in greater detail.

Well, Aunts Kasumi and Ukyou were scheduled to rotate back to Tokyo-3 University; with any luck at all they'd have settled their project in North America within a few weeks and returned home. Bringing Uncle Ranma with them, who would be teacher enough for anyone. Especially when he was splashed with cold water and became Aunt Ranma.

The neighbourhood was a remnant of the pre-Impact city that had somehow survived both the post-Impact bombings and the construction of Tokyo-3, a collection of four and five-story buildings interspersed with empty lots. Old rather than historic, a reminder of losses that society found it easier to ignore than to mourn, it had been left to quietly fall apart.

It bothered him that Miss Ayanami's flat was here. His fellow pilot was more than capable of terrifying into submission the amateur street thugs he'd noticed trying to hide as he passed, some of them actually wetting themselves at the sudden presence of a top-level predator, but she shouldn't have to live in the midst of such ugliness. If his father were worthier, Shinji would have spoken with him.

Then again, if Father were worthier, she wouldn't be living here in the first place. _And you would never have come to be part of our family. Don't forget that, great-grandson_ said Elder Kuh-lon's voice in his head. 

There was the place. A walk-up building, the sort that, in a different location, might be far more pleasant than his and Misato's, full of life and children and neighbours who knew each other's names, like a village of a dozen huts in the middle of a city. Here, however, it reeked of despair and utter loneliness. No wonder that Miss Ayanami was so silent, living all her life as if she were standing guard outside an imperial palace. More wonder that she'd retained any spirit at all.

He stepped through the door. The elevator was broken, and even had it been in repair he wouldn't have cared to subject himself to its stale and doubtless stinking confines. The lobby was littered, and stank of human wastes and spilt beverages scarcely more savoury.

The stairs were less dirty, as if whomever had befouled the lobby was afraid to climb them. Miss Ayanami's flat was two floors up. He knocked at the door.

"Come in."

The door was unlocked. Inside, the little apartment was desolate. Her voice had come from further inside. "Hello, Miss Ayanami," he said. "Captain Katsuragi sent me with your new identity card."

"Hello, Ikari." She wore nothing but a towel, draped over her shoulders. "Thank you for bringing my card." Her posture was innocent, her nudity less provocative than Misato's full dress. He felt as if somehow he'd managed to step into a village bathhouse with his clothes on.

"I'm sorry to have stopped by at an awkward time," he said.

"The Commander has said I should engage in more social interaction," she said. "I've just run a bath. Would you join me? The tub is sufficiently large, I think, and I have a second towel."

"If it's no bother," he said.

"It isn't."

In the village, the bathhouse had two entrances and two changing rooms. The thought of undressing before her was as uncomfortable as the thought of being naked beside her in the water was not.

"Excuse me," she said, and turned back towards the bath. He undressed quickly, folded his clothes and set them on the kitchen table for lack of a better spot. A few minutes later, they were both scrubbed and rinsed and sitting in the tub. There was just enough room for them to stretch out their legs, side by side and facing each other.

"Thank you for inviting me," he said at last. "The public baths here are lonely, and our apartment has only a shower."

"Lonely," she said. "Aren't there other people there?"

"Few. And I don't know any of them." A sizeable minority of Tokyo-3's population were immigrants, and preferred to bathe at home; their customs seemed to have rubbed off on the rest. The men who did use the public baths tended to stay away from him. He suspected that they thought that he'd think they were propositioning him if they talked or came too close, and would do something violent in response.

"I've never been," she said, "but the ones in manga look interesting. Could I go with you, sometime?"

"I don't think there are any mixed baths here."

"Mixed baths?"

"Where men and women bathe together."

"Oh. I thought in public baths they only tried to sneak looks at each other."

"Not in the Amazon Autonomous Region. There's only one bathhouse in each village. The men and boys have one door, and one room to dress in, and the women and girls have another. It's not rude to look, but it is rude to look too much."

"In China. The Commander told me you had been trained to fight there."

"Yes." How much did she know? How much did his father know? He imagined telling her. _Actually, I was kidnaped by an enemy of my foster family who wanted to use me as a weapon, was given a magical forced growth treatment and taken backwards and sideways in time, and spent three years fighting him after I escaped. That's why I'm not really the same age as you, despite us having been born a few months apart._

"I wish he had sent me, also." _I can't decide if I'm glad you were spared that, or if it would've been better than whatever has been done to you. You'd have been a good comrade, I think, but so many of them didn't make it._

"My foster-mothers took me." She looked blank, as if it had never occurred to her that anything happened without the Commander's willing it. _My _father_'s willing it,_ he reminded himself. "One of them is from there."

* * *

"Je suis desolé, Gabrielle," Souryuu Asuka Langley said, "mais je n'ai pas la choix." _All true,_ she thought, _I haven't any choice, and I am sorry. So why do I feel as if I'm lying?_

"I'll miss you. Very much." 

"And I you." Gabrielle Delacour Potter's face brightened, which made Asuka feel rather more guilty. The other girl was sixteen, two years older than herself. _Then why do I feel as if she's the younger one? I don't think it's my degree._ They were the two youngest students in their college, probably the two youngest in the whole university. Asuka had graduated a year ago and started on her doctorate in physics, and Gabrielle, having begun two years ago, was the equivalent of a third year student in a four year undergraduate mathematics programme. "Maman and Mum and Luna and Dad will miss you, also."

"And I them." Gabrielle's parents were all on the faculty here in Heidelburg; three of them were English and the other was French. They'd married young, Asuka gathered, before it was actually legal, and had met whilst they were all still at school. She suspected Gabrielle thought that _everyone_ met whomever they were going to marry before they were old enough to drive.

Not that Gabrielle's parents _did_ drive, as near as Asuka could tell; they didn't own a car, and seldom even rode the bus. Professor Harry-her father, who wouldn't answer to Herr Doktor Potter outside of a classroom-and Professor Ginny-her "Mum"-sometimes mentioned flying as if they were, or had been, pilots, but they never talked about aircraft or any of the other things that all the other pilots she'd met wouldn't shut up about. Asuka wondered if they had bad memories of the wars of the Impact, or some conflict before. Gabrielle was apparently named for an aunt who'd died shortly before her birth, and, reading between the lines, Asuka suspected that death had come in combat.

Gabrielle seemed sometimes absurdly sophisticated-she was conversant with obscure points of history and literature, fluent in Latin and Welsh as well as the local German and her parents' English and French, a skilled fencer, and a competent player on the guitar and lute-but other times as ignorant as a child or a recent immigrant from some backward country like Kurdistan or the Duchy of Nevada.

They'd met when Asuka found her fumbling with a keycard at their dormitory's door, and Gabrielle had said it was the first time she'd used a key that wasn't notched metal. Her initial bewilderment with email and the Web tended to support her claim that she'd scarce used a computer. She said that her school in Scotland had never been electrified, let alone networked, which seemed an excess of anachronism even for an obscure boarding school that apparently drew the bulk of its clientele from amongst the children of old students.

Gabrielle said she'd left school after her third year because she was taking maths classes with the seventh years and leaving even the professors behind, and come here because she could easily have replaced the instructor at her Maman's old school in France. There was obviously some truth in that. Asuka was as good at maths as any physics student, rather more than some, but Gabrielle's mathematics were as far beyond her as hers were beyond those of the first year Japanese literature student who'd tried to flirt with her yesterday in the canteen.

Thankfully, Kaji-san had come by to rescue her after a few awkward minutes, before she'd had to resort to drastic measures. There was nothing like a handsome professor from the School of Strategic Sciences, his unshaven chin and loosely-tied hair contrasting with a beautifully tailored suit, to show a clumsy fresher that she was not impressed by his schoolboy Japanese. And it was far nicer to be remembered as the girl who left on the arm of an alpha male than as the girl who turned out to be under the age of consent.

Thinking of which... the age of consent was fourteen in Tokyo-3. That could be pleasant, couldn't it?


End file.
